


Good

by Theoroark



Series: Feeling Good [12]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Domesticity, F/F, Families of Choice, Gen, Happy Ending, Reflection, Sombra and Widow are cat people, Team Talon (Overwatch)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 05:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14206614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: A coda.Gabe and Sombra reflect.





	Good

Sombra responded to his knock after a minute. She opened the door the smallest crack she could and slipped awkwardly out and shut it behind her. She was wearing a silk robe, her legs were bare, and she was out of breath.

 

"Hey Gabe!" she said. "What's up?"

 

She was smiling, but he could hear Widowmaker grumbling behind her and he could tell it was forced. This was the second time this had happened this summer. Gabriel sighed.

 

"It's– don't worry about it. I'm sorry."

 

"No, hey, come on." Sombra pulled the robe tighter around herself. "Are you okay?"

 

"Yes, I–" He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Some of it turned into black vapor. "It's fine. We can talk tomorrow." He turned and walked away before she could argue any further. As he turned the corner of the Chateau's long corridor, he heard her sigh, and then heard the bedroom door open and close again.

 

He didn't feel like going back to his bedroom, so he headed up the grand staircase, dragging his fingers along the brass railing. It led to a floor with big bay doors on the other end, and he pushed through them and took in a deep breath of the fresh night air. His lungs still didn't work properly, but the chill was bracing.

 

He looked around the balcony. There was a little wrought iron table for two set up near the edge, with an extinguished candle and a single rose in a bud vase on its surface. It was their anniversary. Right. At least Widow hadn't spilled clam sauce all over the kitchen this year. At least he hadn't ruined dinner. He turned the corner and walked to the other part of the veranda, the one without the romantic view of the lake. 

 

Petra was in his favorite recliner. He glared at her. The cat stared balefully back. He was grateful that he lived in a house of beings who were wholly unfazed by a red-eyed, smoking, walking corpse. But sometimes he did miss the fear.

 

He settled for picking her up and depositing her on the floor. She left claw marks on his hands and he swore under his breath. The last time one of the cats had scratched him, the wound had gotten infected, and thrown his regeneration cycle out of sync. Sombra had needed to fly to Dr. Ziegler to get an emergency supply of nanites. He'd have to bandage this when he got back to the house.

 

He lay down on the recliner and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep, of course, he still couldn't. But he could just hear the sound of the lake lapping at the shore and crickets in the forest. It was peaceful. It was the closest to sleep he got anymore.

 

Which meant that he was startled when Sombra walked up to him and said, "So what's going on?"

 

He nearly fell off his recliner, and she laughed. "I told you. It was nothing," he said. He righted himself as she sat down in the chair next to his. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you with Widow?"

 

"Don't insult me. It's been respectably long. She's fast asleep." Gabriel rubbed his eyes. That could very well be true. Retirement had wreaked havoc with his sense of time. 

 

"And stop avoiding the question," Sombra added. 

 

"I mean it when I say it's nothing," he said wearily. Sombra arched an eyebrow. He moved his hand down his face and ran it through his beard. 

 

"It's just... sometimes it comes back up. Everything that's happened. And then I look at where we are, and..."

 

"Yeah," Sombra said quietly. They looked out over the expansive Guillard estate, together. On the far side of the property, he could just see the small barn that kept the plane Sombra had bought and learned to fly. She would cover Gabe up in some burn victim bandages or a vaguely plausible costume and take him and Widow all over the world in it. She and Widow would plan the trips weeks in advance, stocking up on junk food for the flight and scrolling through Trip Advisor. They tried to loop him in, sometimes, but he told them he had done enough plotting for one lifetime. And so they would sit in the breakfast nook together, Sombra projecting a screen from her palm while Widow fed her bits of omelette, and he would sit at the table and read the paper, perfectly content to wait.

 

They visited the older Shimada sometimes, at the cafe he worked at in Paris. Gabriel did not particularly like him, but Widow did. The two of them would sit at a table on the patio and dig into slices of chocolate cake and gossip. But they went to Dorado the most. Widow and Sombra always celebrated the holidays in the little apartment above the bakery. He came, too, even though they always labeled him the wicked child during Seders, and even though one year Sombra had hidden the afikomen by sticking it to his back. Sombra liked to visit other times besides, check in on the few ex-Muertos who had survived the war, check up on Alejandra when she came home from college. 

 

Whenever they flew home, Gabriel usually sat alone in the back. Widow loved the trips, he knew, but he also knew that she would never quite get used to feeling so much, not after being starved for so long. She would walk past him and sit in the cockpit next to Sombra and lean against her shoulder. Usually, Sombra would just wrap an arm around her. She would take a hand off the controls in the process, but Gabriel could never find it in himself to be afraid. But there were times when Sombra came back on the plane taciturn, like when one of the elder relatives of the bakery family died, or when they visited Mexico's memorial for La Medianoche. Then, Widow would rest her hand on her knee and talk to her softly the whole flight. Gabriel had tried to listen, once, and he didn't know much French but he knew poetry when he heard it. 

 

He looked at Sombra now. She was coaxing Petra back towards them. Widow told him she had gotten the cats soon after they came home, because she said the house was too quiet. Sombra had gotten better at letting things be quiet now, he knew, but the cats remained. Widow had told him the story as though she were indulging Sombra, but he would see her sitting with one in her lap in the library, eyes closed, quiet. Sombra had always been good at finding things in the noise. 

 

The cat jumped on her lap and glared at him, before marching in a circle and settling. Gabriel gave her a conciliatory scratch behind the ear. When he looked up, he saw Sombra watching him.

 

“Just sometimes, everything we’ve been through, it’s a lot,” he said.

 

"It's a lot," she agreed quietly. 

 

"Yeah."

 

"But I... it's a good a lot, for me." Her forehead creased as she studied him. Her laugh lines had grown more pronounced over the years. "What about for you?"

 

"I don't know," he said. He studied his hands, the blackness around his nails. They were always the first to go. "I just wasn't expecting it, really. Maybe before, at Overwatch. But after everything, I never thought I would be this lucky."

 

"You know, I remember reading somewhere that there was no such thing as luck, just good genetics."

 

"Yeah, well, that was before I found out my genes were shit." He smiled as Sombra laughed. "We already knew I was a dumbass, Sombra. You don't want my opinion. What do you think?"

 

"What do I think." She leaned forward, her gaze on the dark trees and starry sky. "I think luck's all there is. I know that because no matter what you did, you and Widow never deserved the shit that happened to you. And Mexico didn't deserve what happened to it, during La Medianoche." She ran her fingers through her hair, and Gabriel noticed that she was starting to get grays. "I spent so long looking for a conspiracy. And I found some shit, yeah, but it was never enough. I kept looking for some justification or logic and finally I just had to accept, nothing happens for a reason. All that matters is luck, and what you do with it." She turned to face him. "You remember what you said to me, when I was leaving Talon?"

 

"God." He rubbed at his face. "That was ages ago, and I was such a dick–"

 

"You told me that we weren't the good guys, and us being happy wasn't the happy ending." He winced and she laughed. "Kind of dickish, yeah. But I was thinking about that. Things are... okay now. We're finally moving on, all of us. The world’s getting a bit more okay. And I'm still happy." She scratched Petra behind the ear, and the cat rumbled contentedly. "I think you're right. I killed and blackmailed and stole. I didn't do anything to deserve being happy. But I am. I'm lucky. I'm free and safe and I have Widow and you. I'm grateful for that, and I'm not giving that up. Because life didn’t play fair with me or you or Widow when it fucked us over. So I’m not about to start playing fair when things get good."

 

She tilted her head up to look at him, and he remembered threatening her as she left Talon. He remembered sitting in his office a year later, so alone and so desperate, and writing two words in an untitled text document, over and over again– “help me help me help me help me.” He remembered receiving an email with coordinates after an hour of that. He remembered Sombra and Widow hugging him and feeling the strain that came when he wanted to cry but his desiccant body wouldn’t let him. He remembered saying “I’m sorry” like it was a confession, and the two of them taking it like a gift.

 

"And where’s the fun in playing fair?" he asked. She laughed again, and tipped her head onto his shoulder. They sat there, Petra purring on Sombra's lap, Widow somewhere inside sleeping peacefully, the lake black below them and the moon white above them. 

**Author's Note:**

> So bar some major random flash of inspiration, I going to go ahead and say that this is the end of Feeling Good. I really hope you all liked it, it started with my first ever Spiderbyte fic and got me DEEP into this ship. They're definitely going to be a part of the next series I publish, which will probably go up in about a month or so– I want to make sure I have enough written before I start publishing. In any case, thank you so much to all of those who have read, in particular those who have commented– it really means a lot <3
> 
> I'm @tacticalgrandma on tumblr if you want to talk to me there.
> 
> As always, comments/kudos will make me love you!


End file.
